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Category Archives: Cats

If you read my blog, you will know that the Crankee Yankee and I are owned by five cats. It didn’t happen all at once; they just sort of showed up over the years, and we took them in. Each one had a story, and all sort of saved each other; and us.

We also feed the strays in our area; we have a “feeding station” in the backyard. The Crankee Yankee put it together with wood and plexiglass, and everyone seems to like it.

The top tier offers birdseed and cracked corn plus a bowl of fresh water for the birds and squirrels. The middle tier has one of the *heated pads I bought for our cats, plus a bowl of food. The ground floor features a wooden box fitted with one of the pads and a blanket, plus food and water.

We also put food and water on our front deck, in the garage and under our back porch (all walled in so it is relatively snug). We like knowing that our “guests” (and even the indoor/outdoor cats who actually have owners) have access to these comforts, especially in the cold weather.

One of our “regulars” is a largish gray and black tiger cat we call Stripey. We honestly don’t know if anyone owns him, but he has been a frequent diner all through the fall and winter. Just recently, we noticed one of our cats staring fixedly down on the front porch (it is protected by a roof and plastic sheeting all around so that the Crankee Yankee can go out and work on the siding in fair weather.)

We looked down, and there was Stripey, nestled into one of the short stacks of the insulation (fortunately not the glass type). We figured that he has been sheltering there most nights. So during the daytime I put out his very own bowl of food and water, close to where he sleeps. As we have been having some pretty cold and windy nights, I added a thick fleece blanket on top of the insulation. As of this morning, he is snuggled up in it, so I guess he’s happy about the addition.

Yep—we are a couple of suckers for animals, and don’t they know it. Whenever we find out that one of our “strays” actually belongs to someone, we are glad—and they are still welcome to food and shelter at our place. When spring and summer roll around, we also have our resident skunks who come toddling out at dusk. When our gardens are at their peak, they like to “shop” the garden for the occasional snack. After all, we have plenty of produce.

A note to indoor/outdoor cat owners: please seriously consider getting “break-away” collars for your cats. Make sure that they have a medallion on the collar with their name, your name, address and phone number on it. It is also a good idea to add “shots up to date.” This way, people know that they have had their rabies and other very necessary vaccines.

It is also an excellent idea to have them micro-chipped and registered on HomeAgain. This is a service helps get your pet back home to you safely, should someone find your lost pet. Even if you have indoor only cats, should they get out of the house, you have a far better chance of getting them back.

*These are great; they are made with an interior layer that reflects a cat’s own body heat to keep them warm; no plug required. Plus they are machine washable.

Our cat, Bailey (who is #5 in our cat menagerie), was originally my mom’s and dad’s cat. Since their passings, he is now our cat. He has been with us and the other cats for nearly a year, and fits right in with the gang.

That said, he has a habit that none of the others have: he knows exactly where to sit on the TV table to block the signals. He never listens to our “hey—down in front!” pleas, either. For him, it’s the perfect spot to check on everyone, to wash himself, and best of all, to control our entertainment.

We recently found out that Bailey also has another talent: evidently, he can tell time. Now, I don’t mean the kind of time-telling where all the cats decide that it’s meal time. I mean that he walks over us in our bed, takes a long look at the clock, and he knows it’s time for the humans to get a move on.

We have a feeding schedule that works for us all: 9am and 3pm, then 9pm and 3am (luckily, the Crankee Yankee usually handles that last one!). The cats know this, and if we are a few minutes late, they let us know it.

Bailey can emit an ear-splitting howl that wakes up everyone. No one sleeps through it. He also enjoys having what we call a “nightly nutty.” This means that, for no reason we can see, Bailey starts tearing around the house in the evening, and up and down the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs where his voice really carries, he will howl his head off so that we ALL can enjoy it…

The other cats are kind of nonplussed about it; they all just look at each other, and shrug in a mutual “meh.”

It’s amazing how cats’ facial expressions can let you know exactly how they feel. All cats seem to do this; they know which expressions will “work” their humans. If we are on the couch, enjoying a cup of frozen yoghurt in the evening, Bailey will park his butt as close to us as possible. Then he does his patented “oh, look at the cute kitty!” look: he looks at the cup and tilts his head over to one side appealingly. It’s mighty hard to resist, and no one knows this better than Bailey.

Well, what can you do? There is an old saying, which we know from our own cat family is absolutely true: “Cats were once revered in Egypt as gods. Cats have never forgotten this.”

And, yes—we completely understand that we are the slaves, not the masters. We’re all used to it….

If you read my posts on a regular basis, you’ll know that the Crankee Yankee and I have five cats. Oh, it didn’t happen all at once, but still; we have five cats. They are pretty smart, too. They can’t read nor can they tell time, but they definitely know when it’s time to be fed.

We have a schedule for feeding, and they have learned it well. In the 24 hours of each day, they have four feeding times: 9-ish in the morning, 3-ish in the afternoon, and repeat for night-time. The 9’s are kibble inly, and the 3’s are special wet food that helps their digestion (meaning less vomiting, and less clean-up of such).

It’s almost like having quintuplets in the house; after a while, you just wake up at 3am, stagger to the kitchen and start opening cans. Although I am grateful to the heart that it is usually the Crankee Yankee who gets up to feed everyone at that time, there is this:

After opening the cans, distributing the food, the empties are put in the sink with hot water to loosen up the food bits in them. By the time the sun is up, there is a goodly amount of “cat food sludge” in the bottom of the little mesh doohicky in the sink. This is where the *Alponium odor happens. And it STINKS.

Granted, when the Crankee Yankee feeds them, I don’t have to get up. The cats are happy, and often some of them clean out their bowls, which the Crankee Yankee kindly puts in the sink to soak. So when I get up, that’s what greets me; the smell of Alponium in the morning….pre-coffee, yet!

Ah well, it could be worse. We could be living with a pack of huge great Danes or a pot-bellied pig wearing diapers. Plus, there is the “cute factor” that all the cats share; they are at their most adorable when it’s time to eat. I think it’s the same sort of genetic thing that babies and toddlers have; the innate ability to drive you nuts and then melt your heart.

And then there you are, in the grip of a massive wave of cuteness. I’d say more, but it’s time to clean up the Alponium sludge…

*Alponium is the distinct aroma that goes up your nose when you open a can of cat or dog food. It isn’t on the periodic table either, and I can’t remember who said it first. But you’ll know it when you smell it…

The Crankee Yankee and I have sheltered and fed cats for years now. We’re often bothered by the fact that some people who have indoor/outdoor cats don’t seem to worry or care about them. In fact, that’s how we got Pepper (sadly missed) years ago; he was someone’s cat and they never checked on him, or even looked for him.

He came running to the Crankee Yankee; with sores on his ears and neck where he’d been in a fight, scruffy dirty fur, and later on after we adopted him, we found that he had a serious heart condition. Long story short, we got him to our vet and got him healthy again. We had nine and a half good months with him until his heart failed.

Years later the Crankee Yankee happened to run into Pepper’s owners and told them about him. They didn’t seem to be bothered at all about him; they just said, ‘oh, we wondered what had happened to him.’

Some facts and fiction about indoor/outdoor cats:

Cats are domesticated and do NOT always know how to take care of themselves (ferals are another story; this is about house cats.)

Cats have come to rely on humans for food, care and shelter. Don’t assume that they will automatically “go native;” find their food, find shelter in the cold, etc.

It’s a good idea not to let your indoor/outdoor cats out for the night. They don’t always find shelter and can get sick or hurt. Having a cat door does not always mean that they will come home.

Even in neighborhoods there are hungry predators out there who can and will hurt or kill cats. Additionally, it’s not uncommon for raccoons and other animals to have rabies.

A hungry cat may find and lick up antifreeze on the ground, which is deadly to cats.

Always put a collar with tags on your indoor/outdoor cats. This lets people know that this is not a stray. Also put an ID tag on their collar that shows the cat’s name, your name, address and phone number, and the fact that your cat’s shots are all up to date.

Always get your indoor/outdoor cat microchipped. When a cat is brought to a shelter, the first thing they do is to scan them. Having your cat microchipped means that you can get your cat back.

Spay and neuter your cats. They will never miss having kittens.

If you own pets, it is your responsibility to care for them, feed them, shelter them and keep them safe from harm. They absolutely need their rabies and other shots, and, if they are indoor/outdoor, they will need flea and tick treatments in the warm weather. Unless you are willing to do all this, please do not adopt a pet.

The Crankee Yankee and I are not professionals nor are we veterinarians or even vets’ assistants. The above is what we have learned over time and after many rescues. A pet certainly is not a human child, but it needs love and care and protection.

Now that the Crankee Yankee and I are retired, we have cultivated little rituals each day that remind us how nice it is not to rush to a job each day. Before I go to bed, I get the coffee maker set up so that all the Crankee Yankee needs to do the next morning is to press the button. Viola; minutes later, fresh hot coffee.

He is dozing before 8:00pm while I am just hitting my stride. It’s very late when I get to bed, and I make my nightly rounds before heading to bed myself. Later, all doors and windows checked, I settle in with a good book or program.

By then the house is quiet, all the cats have found their spots for the night. Nala, our one female, is usually tucked up on the Crankee Yankee’s pillow, purring into his ear. Pookie is snoozing behind one of the living room drapes, lying over the register, soaking up the heat.

Plumpy, one of our strays we adopted years ago, is stretched out in the rocking chair, snoring gently and whistling through his nose. The other adopted stray, Tinker, a large marmalade tabby, is flat on his back on the sofa purring in his sleep, his front paws twitching now and then as he chases mice in his dreams.

Bailey, who was originally my Mom’s and Dad’s cat, is nestled in my lap, eyelids at half-mast, rumbling quietly. Absently, I stroke his back before turning a page or reaching for my glass of water.

It’s funny about cats; some are cuddlers; some or not. Some prefer to approach you on their own terms, others don’t mind being picked up. Some will only come to you when they feel like it. Unlike dogs, who want to please, they have their own moods and agendas. They will not come when called, they don’t do tricks (unless is pleases them), they don’t obey commands, and they either like you or they don’t. To me, this is all part of their charm.

But as I sit there, cat in my lap, my mind going over the day and enjoying the peace and quiet of the house, I am grateful. This little slice of peace at the end of the day is a gift I treasure. I wonder what I have done in this life so far to merit such peace, happiness, grace and joy.

Some of my best thoughts and occasional prayers are born while I sit comfortably with a cat in my lap.

We have five cats. Not on purpose; it just happened that way. They all came to us for good reasons, and amazingly, they all get along—mostly. Nala, our one female, came from a house with a dog, and she spent most of her days in the cellar to avoid him. When we adopted her, she was the only cat in the house.

Some months later, I read about a local animal shelter who had several “Desperate Housecats” who had been there for over six months and needed homes. I fell in love with an all-black male named Pagan. I adopted him, and as I got to know him, I changed his name to Pookie, which suited him much better.

Then there were the two stray cats we fed for months and then adopted; Plumpy-Nut and Tinker. We still don’t know to this day if anyone ever owned them, but we finally just took them to our vet, and had them neutered and micro-chipped. They both fit in well with Nala and Pookie.

When the time came when Dad could no longer take proper care of his cat, Bailey, we brought him home with our gang. Later on, Dad moved in with us as well, so now we are all one happy family!

Living with five cats is at once fun and unpredictable. We recently found out that Tinker has some serious skills. The other day was a hot one for this time of year; it was about 85 degrees. Most of the cats were lounging on the back porch, Tinker included.

I happened to look out of the kitchen door, and to my horror, the screen door on the porch was open! Bear in mind that all five cats are indoor only. So hollering to the Crankee Yankee that he forgot to close the damned door, I went flying out to round up the cats.

Bailey and Nala came running in; they really aren’t too keen on the great outdoors anyway. The other two cats, Plumpy and Pookie, were already in the house. That left Tinker, who has never forgotten the joys of being outside.

As we went looking for him, the Crankee Yankee swore that he did not leave the door open. We found Tinker strolling in the back yard as if he owned the place. We got him inside and the Crankee Yankee said, “y’know, I really think that Tinker knows how to open that door.”

I rolled my eyes at him and said that was nuts; how could he? But we have noticed that Tinker always likes to scratch on the wooden frame of the porch door; in fact, right beside the latch.

And you know what? I think he figured out how to open the door. He is tall enough to reach the latch, and all he would have to do is to push it in, and the door would open. So now if any of the cats are on the back porch, we lock that door. (So far he hasn’t figured that out—yet.)

So we now call him Tinker Houdini, the feline escape artist. Good grief—what next?